Happy Birthday Dante
by MisaxMisa
Summary: It's Dante's birthday, but Dante doesnt pay them any attention. Until now. It's better than the summary, I promise. R&R!


**A/N: Hey guys, MisaxMisa here. I'm normally a Bleach fanfic writer but I've decided, after getting back into DMC for the first time in a lot of years, to try my hand at writing one for this fandom. Once I get back on track withe games and remember the minor details (I havent played on 3 or 4 before, so I'm refreshing 1 and 2 first) I might give it a bash at multichap or something, given i have the ideas.**

**I didn't know when Dante's birthday was so I didn't mention a date, so if anyone happens to know when it is, please let me know :P**

**Anyway, on with the story.**

Leather boots squeaked as the man shifted in his sleep. As usual, Dante was napping at his desk, his feet resting on the oak top and crossed at the ankles with a magazine over his face. He was taking advantage of the very rare peace and quiet he got since Patty had moved into Devil May Cry.

The sound of the front door opening aroused his consciousness, but he didn't react, hoping that whoever it was would just go away when they saw he was 'alseep'. The sounds of Morrison's heavy footfalls filled the room, followed by Patty's slightly more dainty ones. So unfortunately, they wouldn't.

"Wake up Dante." Morrisons said, picking the magazine off of the mans face, not failing to notice that it was full of very pretty, half naked women. "Nice choice of magazine. At least it's better than when I found reading one of Patty's girly magazines."

The red devil cracked one eye open, fixing the pair with a cool gaze. "I'll read whatever is there when I'm bored." He said, his tone as laid back as ever, "Now what the hell do you want? Do you have a job for me?"

"We came to give you your birthday presents, you grumpy old man." Patty pouted.

Dante sighed, pulling his feet off the desk and sitting up, eyeing the box in her arms warily. Knowing her, it would be something to decorate the shop with. "I don't celebrate birthdays. And I'm not old, kid."

"Well too bad. We paid good money for these presents and you are going to graciously accept them!" The young girl cried indignantly, putting her spare ran on her hip and leaning towards the devil hunter.

Morrison chuckled at her demand as he handed over an envelope.

"Oh, Morrison, you shouldn't have." The half demon said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Just open it already."

Dante ripped open the envelope and pulled out a birthday card. He flipped it open with one hand and read it, a piece of paper slipping out and fluttering to the ground. Dante bent to pick it up, his eyes going wide as he read the message. Morrison had cut $5,000 off of the sizeable amount he owed him.

"Wow, maybe I should celebrate birthdays more often, in a few years I could owe you nothing."

"Don't get your hopes up too much, this isn't an annual gift. But I knew you'd want it in writing."

"Are you kidding? I'm gonna frame this baby." Dante propped the card up next to one he had received in the post earlier. Before he stowed the trusty U-Don't-Owe-Me declaration safetly in one of his desk drawers.

"Who's that one from?" Morrison asked, pointing to the other card.

"That ones from Trish."

"Oh. What did she get you?"

Dante didn't answer, instead he handed the card to the other man to read it himself. After a couple of seconds, he chuckled. "'Devil's don't buy presents' huh? That Trish is full of attitude."

"You're telling me." Dante replied as a fairly sized box was shoved into his hands, followed by Patty shouting that it was her turn.

He tore the paper off, lifting the lid with dread. It revealed, to his suprise, a sword polishing kit and a gun cleaning kit. Dante chuckled, placing the box on his desk.

"I noticed your sword was getting a bit blood covered. And you don't want your guns jamming at a bad time." Patty said, smiling.

"You did good, kid." He said, taking the card that had came with it and propping it beside the other two.

"Thank you!" She beamed.

Dante sat back in his chair, his hands folding up behind his head. "So, no jobs huh?"

"None today, you get a day off."

"I get a lot of those. So it's not really anything special." Dante sighed. He kicked his legs back up onto the table between his cards and his gift.

"Thats only because you turn down jobs that you're not interested in."

Dante shrugged, smirking at the man with one eye open. "If I wanted boring things to do, I'd get a job in a goddamned cubicle somewhere."

"That's true. But you'll never get out of debt with that attitude."

"I'll manage. Somehow."

They were all silent for a moment, before Morrisson sighed. "Come on Patty, we'll leave him be. We'll let him have the nap he is clearly getting ready for."

"You know me to well Morrison." Dante smirked, picking the magazine back up and replacing it back over his face.

* * *

><p>Dante walked along the road, his guitar case slung over his back containing a freshly polished Rebellion, with his red trench coat flapping as he walked. He entered the 50's style diner he regularly visited and was greeted enthusiastically by Cindy the waitress. She spun around on her rollerblades, winked at him, then rolled off to serve another customer.<p>

He sat down at the bar, asking for the usual, and was shocked when he was shot down.

"Sorry Dante, we've ran out of strawberry sundae supplies. You'll have to wait until tomorrow."

"What?" He asked, genuinely shocked and annoyed.

"I can't make you a sundae if I don't have the stuff."

Instead, he ordered a pizza, asking for no olives but getting them as always. He mumbled under his breathe as the man went to make it. Twenty minuted later, he was back out on the street and on a mission. Get a strawberry sundae. He'd really gotten himself in the mood for one and god dammit would he get one. The 50's diner was his favourite, but there were plenty of other places that served such a treat. But it seemed like god wasn't on his side today.

* * *

><p><em>'Bullshit. It's my goddamned birthday and literally nowhere can I get a fucking strawberry sundae. How the hell could EVERYWHERE run out of supplies at once?'<em>

His face must have reflected his annoyance because random passersby were giving him a wide berth on the pathway, shooting furtive and worried glances at him as they went. His scowl deepend as he just stared down at the concrete passing beneath him. Giving up, he headed back in the direction of his shop. _'Hopefully a good job will come in and I can beat some sorry son of a bitch demon back into the underworld.'_

A short walk later, he entered the courtyard outside of Devil May Cry and noticed a large van parked up outside the shop as well as a man standing outside of his door.

"Can I help you?" Dante asked once he'd gotten a bit closer, his voice sounding uninterested and lazy as always. "If it's the 'John' you're after give me two seconds to open up."

"You Tony Redgrave?" The man asked, checking his clipboard for the name, slightly unnerved by Dante's unwavering gaze and flippant nature.

"Who wants to know?" Dante asked, digging his keys out of his pocket as he spoke.

"I got a delivery for you."

Dante narrowed his eyes as he unlocked the double doors leading into his home and business. "I didn't order anything."

"It was ordered for you. I was told to give you this too."

Dante took the fourth envelope of the day and pulled out another birthday card. One eyebrow rose as he smirked at the cover.

"'Birthday Gurl'?" He said more to himself than anything. The card was pink and had a picture of a girl going, what he guessed was, shopping judging by all the little pictures around her. It even had a badge that he could take off and wear. Not knowing whether he should be annoyed or amused, he slid the card open to see who it was from.

_'Dante, how did it feel not being able to get your strawberry sundae on your birthday? Did it suck? Oh well, as a treat seeing as how we're even on the debt field now, I thought I'd get you these. Lady.'_

_'That damned women! Was she responsible for them having 'no supplies? Bunch of lying bastards.' _Dante looked up from the card to the van, and then to the man, asking suspiciously, "What are you delivering?"

The man checked his clipboard again. "100 strawberry sundaes."

Dante's eyes widened in both shock and pure ecstasy. _'100 - fucking - sundaes. Thank yoooou Lady.'_ He cheered in his mind. But his exterior was as calm and collected as ever. "Bring them in."

Minutes later, Dante watched as the man load the refrigerated boxes from the van into his own fridge, munching on the first of a hundred sundaes as he did.

_'Damn.' _He thought, _'I really should celebrate birthdays more often.'_

**MisaxMisa: Hey Dante :D  
>Dante: Who the hell are you?<br>MisaxMisa: I'm the lovely author who wrote about you getting 100 sundaes for your birthday.  
>Dante: ...Okay<br>MisaxMisa: Are you not even gonna thank me?  
>Dante: Why would I?<br>MisaxMisa: Oh... This guy is gonna be hard to work with...**


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